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Such one King Edmond, but was rent for gaine. | Thus hauing ended all her piteous plaint, 470
All such vaine moniments of earthlie masse, With dolefull shrikes shee vanished away,
Deuour'd of Time, in time to nought doo passe.
But fame with golden wings aloft doth flie, 421
Aboue the reach of ruinous decay,

And with braue plumes doth beate the azure skie,

Admir'd of base-borne men from farre away:
Then who so will with vertuous deeds assay
To mount to heauen, on Pegasus must ride,
And with sweete Poets verse be glorifide.

For not to haue been dipt in Lethe lake,
Could saue the sonne of Thetis from to die;
But that blinde bard did him immortall make
With verses, dipt in deaw of Castalie: 431
Which made the Easterne Conquerour to crie,
O fortunate yong-man, whose vertue found
So braue a Trompe, thy noble acts to sound.
Therefore in this halfe happie I doo read
Good Melibæ, that hath a Poet got,
To sing his liuing praises being dead,
Deseruing neuer here to be forgot,


In spight of enuie, that his deeds would spot :
Since whose decease, learning lies vnregarded,
And men of armes doo wander vnrewarded.
Those two be those two great calamities,
That long agoe did grieue the noble spright
Of Salomon with great indignities;
Who whilome was aliue the wisest wight.
But now his wisedome is disprooued quite ;
For he that now welds all things at his will,
Scorns th❜one and th'other in his deeper skill.
O griefe of griefes, O gall of all good heartes,
To see that vertue should dispised bee
Of him, that first was raisde for vertuous parts,
And now broad spreading like an aged tree,
Lets none shoot vp, that nigh him planted bee:
O let the man, of whom the Muse is scorned,
Nor aliue, nor dead be of the Muse adorned.
O vile worlds trust, that with such vaine illusion
Hath so wise men bewitcht, and ouerkest,
That they see not the way of their confusion,
O vainesse to be added to the rest,
That do my soule with inward griefe infest :
Let them behold the piteous fall of mee: 461
And in my case their owne ensample see.
And who so els that sits in highest seate
Of this worlds glorie, worshipped of all,
Ne feareth change of time, nor fortunes threate,
Let him behold the horror of my fall,
And his owne end vnto remembrance call;
That of like ruine he may warned bee,
And in himselfe be moou'd to pittie mee.

That I through inward sorrowe wexen faint,
For her departure, had no word to say:
And all astonished with deepe dismay,
But sate long time in sencelesse sad affright,
Looking still, if I might of her haue sight.
Which when I missed, hauing looked long,
My thought returned greeued home againe,
Renewing her complaint with passion strong,
For ruth of that same womans piteous paine; 480
Whose wordes recording in my troubled braine,
I felt such anguish wound my feeble heart,
That frosen horror ran through euerie part.
So inlie greeuing in my groning brest,
And deepelie muzing at her doubtfull speach,
Whose meaning much I labored foorth to wreste,
Being aboue my slender reasons reach;
At length by demonstration me to teach,
Before mine eies strange sights presented were,
Like tragicke Pageants seeming to appeare. 490


I saw an Image, all of massie gold,
Placed on high vpon an Altare faire,
That all, which did the same from farre beholde,
Might worship it, and fall on lowest staire.
Not that great Idoll might with this compaire,
To which th' Assyrian tyrant would haue made
The holie brethren, falslie to haue praid.
But th'Altare, on the which this Image staid,
Was (O great pitie) built of brickle clay,
That shortly the foundation decaid,
With showers of heauen and tempests worne

Then downe it fell, and low in ashes lay,
Scorned of euerie one, which by it went ;
That I it seing, dearelie did lament.

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Then did I see a pleasant Paradize,
Full of sweete flowres and daintiest delights, 520
Such as on earth man could not more deuize,
With pleasures choyce to feed his cheerefull

Not that, which Merlin by his Magicke slights
Made for the gentle squire, to entertaine
His fayre Belphœbe, could this gardine staine.
But O short pleasure bought with lasting paine,
Why will hereafter anie flesh delight

In earthlie blis, and ioy in pleasures vaine,
Since that I sawe this gardine wasted quite,
That where it was scarce seemed anie sight? 530
That I, which once that beautie did beholde,
Could not from teares my melting eyes with-



Soone after this a Giaunt came in place,
Of wondrous power, and of exceeding stature,
That none durst vewe the horror of his face,
Yet was he milde of speach, and meeke of nature.
Not he, which in despight of his Creatour
With railing tearmes defied the Iewish hoast,
Might with this mightie one in hugenes boast.
For from the one he could to th'other coast, 540
Stretch his strong thighes, and th'Occean

And reatch his hand into his enemies hoast.
But see the end of pompe and fleshlie pride;
One of his feete vnwares from him did slide,
That downe hee fell into the deepe Abisse,
Where drownd with him is all his earthlie blisse.


Then did I see a Bridge, made all of golde,
Ouer the Sea from one to other side,
Withouten prop or pillour it t'vpholde,

But like the coulored Rainbowe arched wide:
Not that great Arche, which Traian edifide, 551
To be a wonder to all age ensuing,
Was matchable to this in equall vewing.
But (ah) what bootes it to see earthlie thing
In glorie, or in greatnes to excell,
Sith time doth greatest things to ruine bring?
This goodlie bridge, one foote not fastened well,
Gan faile, and all the rest downe short lie fell,
Ne of so braue a building ought remained, 559
That griefe thereof my spirite greatly pained.


I saw two Beares, as white as anie milke,
Lying together in a mightie caue,
Of milde aspect, and haire as soft as silke,
That saluage nature seemed not to haue,
Nor after greedie spoyle of blood to craue:
Two fairer beasts might not elswhere be found,
Although the compast world were sought around.

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But what can long abide aboue this ground
In state of blis, or stedfast happinesse ?
The Caue, in which these Beares lay sleeping

Was but earth, and with her owne weightinesse.
Vpon them fell, and did vnwares oppresse,
That for great sorrow of their sudden fate,
Henceforth all worlds felicitie I hate.

Much was I troubled in my heauie spright,
Ät sight of these sad spectacles forepast,
That all my senses were bereaued quight,
And I in minde remained sore agast,
Distraught twixt feare and pitie; when at last
I heard a voyce, which loudly to me called, 580
That with the suddein shrill I was appalled.
Behold (said it) and by ensample see,
That all is vanitie and griefe of minde,
Ne other comfort in this world can be,
But hope of heauen, and heart to God inclinde;
For all the rest must needs be left behinde :
With that it bad me, to the other side
To cast mine eye, where other sights I spide.



¶ Vpon that famous Riuers further shore,
There stood a snowie Swan of heauenly hiew,
And gentle kinde, as euer Fowle afore;
A fairer one in all the goodlie criew
Of white Strimonian brood might no man view :
There he most sweetly sung the prophecie
Of his owne death in dolefull Elegie.
At last, when all his mourning melodie
He ended had, that both the shores resounded,
Feeling the fit that him forewarnd to die,
With loftie flight aboue the earth he bounded,
And out of sight to highest heauen mounted: 600
Where now he is become an heauenly signe ;
There now the ioy is his, here sorrow mine.

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Soone after this I saw on th'other side,
A curious Coffer made of Heben wood,
That in it did most precious treasure hide,
Exceeding all this baser worldes good:
Yet through the ouerflowing of the flood
It almost drowned was, and done to nought,
That sight thereof much grieu'd my pensiue

At length when most in perill it was brought,
Two Angels downe descending with swift flight,
Out of the swelling streame it lightly caught,
And twixt their blessed armes it carried quight
Aboue the reach of anie liuing sight:
So now it is transform'd into that starre,
In which all heauenly treasures locked are. 630

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Yet was he deckt (small ioy to him alas)
With manie garlands for his victories,
And with rich spoyles, which late he did purchas
Through braue atcheiuements from his enemies:
Fainting at last through long infirmities,

He smote his steed, that straight to heauen him bore,

And left me here his losse for to deplore.



Lastly I saw an Arke of purest golde
Vpon a brazen pillour standing hie,
Which th'ashes seem'd of some great Prince to

Enclosde therein for endles memorie

Of him, whom all the world did glorifie :
Seemed the heauens with the earth did disagree,
Whether should of those ashes keeper bee.
At last me seem'd wing footed Mercurie,
From heauen descending to appease their strife,
The Arke did beare with him aboue the skie,
And to those ashes gaue a second life,

To liue in heauen, where happines is rife : 670
At which the earth did grieue exceedingly,
And I for dole was almost like to die.


Immortall spirite of Philisides,

Which now art made the heauens ornament, Giue leaue to him that lou'de thee to lament That whilome wast the worlds chiefst riches; His losse, by lacke of thee to heauen hent, And with last duties of this broken verse, Broken with sighes, to decke thy sable Herse. And ye faire Ladie th'honor of your daies, 680 And glorie of the world, your high thoughts


Vouchsafe this moniment of his last praise,
With some few siluer dropping teares t'adorne :
And as ye be of heauenlie off spring borne,
So vnto heauen let your high minde aspire,
And loath this drosse of sinfull worlds desire.



the Ladie Strange.

Ost braue and noble Ladie, the things that make ye so much honored of the world as ye bee, are such, as (without my simple lines testimonie) are throughlie knowen to all men; namely, your excellent beautie, your vertuous behavior, and your noble match with that most honourable Lord the verie Paterne of right Nobilitie: But the causes for which ye haue thus deserued of me to be honoured (if honour it be at all) are, both your particular bounties, and also some priuate bands of affinitie, which it hath pleased your Ladiship to acknowledge. Of which whenas I found my selfe in no part worthie, I deuised this last slender meanes, both to inti


mate my humble affection to your Ladiship and also to make the same vniuersallie knowen to the world; that by honouring you they might know me, and by knowing me they might honor you. Vouchsafe, noble Lady, to accept this simp remembrance, thogh not worthy of your self, ya such, as perhaps by good acceptance therof, may hereafter cull out a more meet and memor able euidence of your own excellent deserts. S recommending the same to your Ladiships good liking, I humbly take leaue.

Your La: humbly euer.

The Teares of the Muses.


Ehearse to me ye sacred Sisters nine,
The golden brood of great Apolloes wit,
Those piteous plaints and sorrowfull sad tine,
Which late ye powred forth as ye did sit
Beside the siluer Springs of Helicone,
Making your musick of hart-breaking mone.
For since the time that Phoebus foolish sonne
Ythundered through Ioues auengefull wrath,
For trauersing the charret of the Sunne
Beyond the compasse of his pointed path,
Of you his mournfull Sisters was lamented,
Such mournfull tunes were neuer since inuented.
Nor since that faire Calliope did lose
Her loued Twinnes, the dearlings of her ioy,
Her Palici, whom her vnkindly foes
The fatall Sisters, did for spight destroy,
Whom all the Muses did bewaile long space;
Was euer heard such wayling in this place.
For all their groues, which with the heauenly


Of theirsweete instruments were wont to sound,
And th'hollow hills, from which theirsiluer voyces
Were wont redoubled Echoes to rebound,
Did now rebound with nought but rufull cries,
And yelling shrieks throwne vp into the skies.
The trembling streames which wont in chanels

To romble gently downe with murmur soft,
And were by them right tunefull taught to beare
A Bases part amongst their consorts oft;

Ed. Sp.

Now forst to ouerflowe with brackish teares.
With troublous noyse did dull their daint


The ioyous Nymphes and lightfoote Faeries
Which thether came to heare their musics

And to the measure of their melodies
Did learne to moue their nimble shifting feete:
Now hearing them so heauily lament,
Like heauily lamenting from them went.
And all that els was wont to worke delight
Through the diuine infusion of their skill,
And all that els seemd faire and fresh in sigh
So made by nature for to serue their will, 4
Was turned now to dismall heauinesse,
Was turned now to dreadfull vglinesse.
Ay me, what thing on earth that all thing

Might be the cause of so impatient plight ?
What furie, or what feend with felon deeds
Hath stirred vp so mischieuous despight?
Can griefe then enter into heauenly harts,
And pierce immortall breasts with mortal

Vouchsafe ye then, whom onely it concernes,
To me those secret causes to display ;
For none but you, or who of you it learnes,
Can rightfully aread so dolefull lay.
Begin thou eldest Sister of the crew,
And let the rest in order thee ensew.


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